A Thousand Miles in a Machilla 



To make matters worse, somebody knew that 

 there was a place called New Mkushi, and suggested 

 that it was only a mile or so ahead. On we went to 

 reconnoitre, but soon realized that we were following 

 a will-o'-the-wisp, so returned to the neighbourhood 

 of the old boma and pitched our camp. Our dis- 

 appointment was great. Supplies were running 

 short, and the hope of purchasing sundry creature 

 comforts for ourselves and food for our men was 

 dashed to the ground. We had expected letters; 

 and had been given to understand that though 

 there was no white official, the native in charge 

 would be able to give us reliable information as 

 to the road to Broken Hill. 



We found out subsequently that the boma had 

 been moved to a new site, hence the neglected 

 state of the road we had passed. News of this 

 change had apparently not been communicated to 

 Mpika. 



The remainder of our journey passed without 

 untoward incidents. We left Mkushi on the morn- 

 ing of the 2nd December, and reached Broken 

 Hill the morning of the 7th, a day sooner than we 

 expected. 



The rain came down daily, or rather nightly, but 

 X)nly caused us serious inconvenience on the morning 

 of our departure from Mkushi. It had rained 

 heavily all night, and there was a light drizzle still 

 falling when we started at 6 a.m. 



About an hour later it came on to pour, and soon 

 afterwards the rain fell in such deluges — veritable 

 sheets of rain — that the weight of A 's machilla 



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